Dyr Drabbles
by rachele X
Summary: Crappy title, I know. Basically this will be a whole bunch of drabbles about one of my favorite pairings, Cyr and Damon Fizzy! Some will be fluffy, others will be less so. Enjoy. Rated M for...reasons.
1. Forgotten Lust

**A/N: First time writing smut! Also, first time writing Youtube fanfiction. And slash. God, a whole lot of firsts. But hopefully this is good. I'd like to know if you think it's good... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Cyr or Damon Fizzy. I sure WISH I did. THAT would be fun.**

**Warnings: Yes, this is smut. No, you don't have to read it if you're not comfortable with smut. It is also slash, which you also don't have to read if you don't like slash. Read at your own risk.**

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Cyr groaned as he rolled over in the bed, wincing at the spasms of agony coming from his head. Biting his lip to avoid screaming at the pain that resulted from trying to sit up, he sat blinking in the darkness of the room, hearing only the faint hum of a generator and the beeping of a monitor. Sighing, he reached for the lamp and flicked it on, illuminating the cramped space in dim yellow light. He bleakly registered the spindly table cluttered with cards, the vase of drooping flowers on the other side of the room, the musty drawn curtains, and the sagging chair next to the door. His mind was swirling, and suddenly his stomach was gripped in a powerful spasm. He retched and vomited, his head swimming and side burning. Yellow lights flashed in front of his vision and he collapsed onto the pillow, succumbing to the swirling blackness.

When he next awoke, the room was clearer, drenched in white light. The curtains were open, and blinding sunlight was shining through the window. He sat up, wincing once more at the stabbing pain, and ran his fingers through his shaggy dark hair. He blinked, trying to figure out why his vision was so blurry, and spied a pair of black-framed glasses sitting on the night table next to the lamp. He slipped them on and slowly, the room came into focus. At the other end of the room, a clump of people stood, clearly not realizing that Cyr was awake. He blearily tried to place them, but to no avail; there was something blocking his brain from thinking properly, and it wouldn't budge. He must have cried out, because moments later he was staring straight into a set of clear blue eyes. He swallowed loudly; in the foggy confusion clouding his brain, he couldn't remember if he was supposed to have feelings for this boy, or even _who _he was. But why were his eyes so _blue_?

His stomach clenched in knots, he resisted the urge to vomit again, and sank down into the pillows, trying to act normal. The blue-eyed one, whose short brown hair looked rather nice, Cyr thought, in this light, smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. The others encircled him, beaming; Cyr mumbled something, trying to push out of the haze surrounding his mind. The boy looked first to Cyr, then to the others; he flashed them a meaningful glance and they slowly backed out of the room.

Cyr blinked up at him, still trying to dispel the fog, but failing. He coughed loudly, looking away to keep from staring into the other boy's blue eyes. The boy seemed to notice this, because he smiled, putting a hand on Cyr's shoulder.

"Dude, you're finally up! We were so _worried_!" Cyr just blinked, the confusion reflected in his brown eyes. The boy laughed. "You gonna say something, Cyr?"

Cyr sighed as he tried to figure out what the words meant. Cyr. Sounded..familiar. With a jolt, he realized it was his name.

"Where-who am I?" Cyr stammered out, ashamed at the stupidity in his voice. What kind of first impression was _that_?

The blue-eyed boy laughed. "Vincent Cyr? Hospital room 240? Ring any bells?"

Cyr shook his head, befuddled. Maybe if he wasn't so taken on this boy's hair, his piercing blue eyes, his gentle face, he might have an easier time focusing. "Wh-who are you then?"

Once again, Cyr cursed himself, wishing he didn't sound so useless, so _stupid_.

"Um.._Damon_? Damon Fizzy? Dee-fizzy? Remember me?" The boy, Damon, stared at him with a mixture of shock, confusion, and disbelief. Cyr stared right back. Damon sighed.

"You seriously don't-_SHIT._ Shit, shit, shit!" The change in his expression was clear as he realized what was happening. Cyr noticed a wet glistening in Damon's eyes before he sunk his head in his hands, cursing under his breath. "Fuck-no-Cyr-it can't-NO!"

Damon lifted his head; the tears streaming down his face glinted in the light. Cyr sat back into the pillows, confused beyond all measure. "Cyr! Cyr!" Damon was sobbing, shaking Cyr's body. Finally, a trickle of understanding came to him.

"Dude, I'm not _dead_, you know."

Something he said must have struck a chord with Damon, because he grinned, throwing his head back in joyous laughter. Then, abruptly, he stopped. His face hardened, grew grim, but Cyr couldn't help noticing a wild flash in his blue eyes that was not there earlier.

"Cyr, do you remember me?" Damon's voice was desperate. "Do you remember _anything?_"

Cyr strained, pushed against the heavy fog, his head throbbing, but to no avail. He shook his head slowly. Damon sighed, a tear trickling down his face. "So it's true," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "You _do _have amnesia."

Suddenly, it dawned on Cyr. He _knew _this Damon guy. Somehow, sometime, they were friends. Or maybe more than that, he wasn't sure. He didn't know the details, or what had happened, but somehow, he had forgotten. He sat up abruptly, his head swimming and vision flashing. A fire had ignited in Damon just then, a wild blaze that reflected in his eyes, his face, his mannerisms. Cyr, too, felt that fire. His blood bubbled and burned as a sudden heat coursed through his veins; he was looking at Damon in a different way than he had before. He coughed.

"Uh..Damon? How exactly did I _get_ amnesia?"

Damon frowned. "Vlogging. You tripped down the stairs and cracked your head open," he announced, his voice devoid of emotion despite the obvious tremor. Cyr sighed.

"How-"

Damon was about to answer, but he stopped and, without warning, thrusted Cyr's neck towards his and kissed his lips. Momentary shock registered in Cyr's dark chocolate eyes, but he embraced the gesture, kissing back passionately. Somehow, this felt natural to him, even if nothing else did.

Damon slowly broke away, and Cyr smiled. The warm pleasure of the kiss was beginning to fade away, leaving him yearning for more. But Damon wasn't planning on satisfying Cyr's craving any time soon, because he slipped off the bed and stood up, avoiding Cyr's hungry gaze.

"I should be leaving," he said matter-of-factly, beginning to edge towards the door. "You need your rest."

"No!" Cyr cried out suddenly, his foggy mind desperate for human contact. He reached out for Damon, who sighed and, feigning reluctance, strolled back to the bed. He sank down next to Cyr, who rested his head in his friend's lap, suddenly exhausted. Damon leaned back, chuckling, and ran his fingers through Cyr's shaggy dark hair. Although messy and disheveled, it was impossibly soft and shiny, slipping through his fingers like black fine-grained sand.

Damon cupped Cyr's face in his hands and kissed his lips, feeling Cyr's unshaven jaw, his soft hair, his slightly chapped lips. Cyr closed his eyes as waves of pleasure washed over him and embedded his fingers in Damon's brown hair. When he opened his eyes again and slowly pulled his lips away, he noticed the slight flush on Damon's cheeks, the broad smile on his face, his glinting diamond earrings. He adjusted his glasses slightly, trying desperately to ignore the feelings coursing through him, the blind desire for more that his body screamed out. He couldn't become aroused. Not now.

"You feeling any better?" Damon asked, winking. Cyr laughed.

"Much." He kissed Damon once more, the passion and intent blazing in their eyes. Before they could do much more, they were interrupted by the creak of the door. A squat nurse waddled in, eyes widening when she saw the two lovers on the bed. Damon and Cyr broke apart, staring at the nurse, who quickly backed out of the room, red-faced and coughing loudly. When the door had slammed shut, the two didn't resume immediately, but lay back and stared up at the slowly turning fan on the ceiling. Cyr gave a dry laugh.

"What the _fuck_?"

Damon grinned. "The look on her face!"

Cyr slid closer to Damon until their bodies were pressed against each other. Cyr's skin tingled with the warmth of Damon's body, and he once more had to fight the burning desire coursing through him. This time, however, he did not succeed.

An inkling of surprise registered in Damon's face as Cyr, delirious with pain and passion, pressed his mouth to Damon's lips. Damon didn't protest, though, as emotions surged through his body. The room faded away, or maybe Cyr faded from the room. He wasn't sure, but he was floating on a fiery cloud of passion and desire. He felt Damon's tongue enter his mouth, probing, and Cyr's fingers echoed the motion, but in other parts of Damon's body. Damon was moving down to his neck, now, sucking and nibbling. _That'll leave one hell of a hickey_, Cyr thought, but he put reality aside and focused on the moment, the passion, the emotion.

As they kissed, grinding their bodies together, Cyr felt a sudden surge of longing, and he was reaching for Damon's shirt before he could stop himself. It took some fumbling with the buttons before Damon noticed. Shock registered in his eyes and he pulled away abruptly, face blank. Cyr felt a shudder of shame and fell backwards, cursing himself. Tears stung his eyes as the reality of what he had done sank in. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He felt Damon's soft hand on his cheek, but didn't look up. He couldn't bear to stare into those shocked blue eyes. "Too far," Cyr moaned under his breath, shaking Damon's hands off. "Too fucking far. I'm an idiot."

"You're not."

He looked up at this, to find Damon smiling, understanding. He lunged forward

to kiss him again, but remembered himself and pulled back. Damon shook his head, and pressed his mouth to Cyr's. The tides of shame and regret had turned for Cyr, washed away and replaced with burning pleasure. As his mind drifted and his eyes squeezed shut, he felt hands reaching for the bottom of his shirt. He squirmed slightly when Damon's fingers brushed against his "danger zone", but allowed him to pull the shirt over his head. Sighing, sucking at Damon's neck, he once more fumbled with the buttons of Damon's shirt. This time, the other permitted him to unbutton the shirt and Damon shrugged it over his shoulders, tossing it to the ground next to Cyr's and beginning to work on his pants. Cyr's pants were easy, since they were only loose pajama shorts, but Damon's were less cooperative. It took a bit of fumbling on Cyr's part to undo the belt, but at last, the two were refreshingly naked.

Without clothes, the kiss took on a whole new level. Cyr didn't protest as he was rolled onto his back, straddled by Damon's bare legs. His body exploded with pleasure as Damon's lips moved further and further down his body. He groped blindly at Damon's body, finally finding a nipple and taking it between his lips, earning a small noise from Damon barely audible over Cyr's own moans. As Damon reached the target area, sensations stronger than Cyr had ever felt coursed through him, and he couldn't help but cry out. Damon didn't seem to hear, though, and he didn't notice Cyr quickly growing hard. Well, he probably did, but he didn't care. Finally, Cyr's hands found Damon's own member and he carefully explored the area, first with his fingers and then his mouth. Cyr slipped the head of Damon's erect cock between his lips, feeling with his tongue, trying to ignore the jolting sensations coming from down below where Damon was doing the same thing. Sliding the shaft into his mouth, sucking furiously, he widened his legs to allow Damon more room. Suddenly, a strong, wet feeling came over him, and the pressure lightened as Damon let go.

"Did I just cum?"

Damon coughed and nodded. "Dude, really? We haven't even started yet!"

Cyr laughed, but the laughter soon caught in his throat and was replaced with a moan as his cock once more entered Damon's mouth. The feelings were too powerful this time, and he forgot to perform the job on Damon, consenting to close his eyes and moan as the sensations washed over him. As Damon sucked still harder, Cyr clawed at the sheets, bucking his hips wildly. Finally, he slowed down, heart pounding. "D-Damon?" Cyr's voice was a small whimper; his muddled, passion-induced brain couldn't handle much more. Damon released Cyr's cock from his lips.

"Mmmm?"

Cyr stared up at his friend, brown eyes wild and pleading. "Please...fuck me?"

Damon shook his head slowly. Probably the painkillers had screwed with Cyr's brain, because he'd never seen him like this. Cyr blinked at him, slipping one of Damon's nipples between his teeth and sucking vigorously. This earned a symphony of moans from the boy, and Cyr was rewarded when a lubricated finger-when had he gotten out the lube?-was slid into his opening. He let out a rather undignified squeal as another finger entered, his lips trailing down Damon's chest and his spine arching in a way that shouldn't have been anatomically possible. After a bit of sliding and prodding, Damon's fingers slipped out of Cyr, to be replaced with the cock itself. Cyr had to keep from screaming with pleasure as Damon thrust into him. He was still on his back, and had his legs over Damon's shoulders to allow him more room. He moaned and screamed at the feelings burning through his body, as Damon thrust harder and harder, sending waves of pleasure crashing over him. Hips bucking wildly, he felt his glasses slide off his face and clatter to the floor, but he didn't care, clutching to the closest available object-Damon's arm-to steady himself. He screamed in pleasure as Damon gave one last thrust and slid out of him, falling back onto the bed panting.

"M-more..." Cyr begged, but soon he saw why Damon had stopped. It was then that he noticed the camera, mounted on the wall and trained towards them, and heard maniacal laughter coming from somewhere he couldn't see. He rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as his head swiveled wildly in search of the source of the noise. Damon glared at the camera.

"Fuck you, Stefan!"

More laughter. This time it sounded like more than just one person. "No! You fuck _me_!" Stefan shouted back. More laughter.

"Dude, I think he's a little _busy_..." Damon recognized that to be Greg, and he cursed himself for not noticing the camera earlier. Cyr just blinked in confusion, still breathing hard. Damon jumped off the bed, pulling on the first clothes he could find, which happened to belong to Cyr. More laughter. Damon was fuming, his face turning a darker and darker shade of red.

"Stefan! You'd better not put this on Youtube!"

The others cackled with laughter. Greg shouted again. "Too late, bro!"

Damon glared. "Fuck you all." He collapsed onto the bed next to Cyr, who rested his head in Damon's lap, and the two momentarily forgot they had an audience, curling up together and drifting into sleep.

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**A/N: So...what did you think? Be as harsh as you want! I love critique and want to know how I can improve this thing..xD**


	2. Spaghetti and Pandas(and lack of shirts)

**A/N: Okay, this was fast! I was actually surprisingly motivated to write this drabble! That probably won't last...:P**

**Disclaimer: meh..you know this.**

**Warnings: Um...nothing much except for MAJOR fluff. I got carried away with the fluffiness. Oh, and if guy-with-guy pairings (slash) offend you, you probably shouldn't have even clicked on this story in the first place.**

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"Up and at 'em, Cyr!" Cyr groaned and rolled over, falling off the couch and landing in a heap on the carpet. He blearily opened one chocolate-brown eye and stared at the blurry figure of Damon standing above him. Still half-asleep, he fumbled for his glasses, finally finding them a few feet away and slipping them on. Then he yawned and pushed himself to his feet, taking in the sunset light coming through the windows of the white-walled apartment.

"Damon?" he mumbled, almost collapsing into Damon's arms.

"Mmm?" Damon replied, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"Wha time issit?"

Damon laughed, looked at his watch, and cursed loudly. Cyr blinked at him, confused. Damon cursed again. "They're gonna be here in 10 minutes and I haven't even started the spaghetti!" Cyr merely stared. Damon chuckled.

"You really are tired, aren't you? We invited all the others to come over, remember? Since we haven't seen them in months?"

Understanding gradually came to Cyr, and he nodded slowly. "Do-do ya need help with the spaghetti?"

Damon shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. Just put on some pants, 'kay?"

Cyr looked down and was surprised to see that he was wearing only his boxers. If it was anyone other than Damon who had noticed he would've been embarrassed to all hell, but Damon was used to seeing him in much less. As Damon hurried out of the room and into the kitchen to cook the spaghetti, Cyr trudged over to the closet. It took all his willpower not to collapse on the couch and take a nap, but he wasn't exactly ready for his friends to see him without pants. Even so, it took quite a while just to find an acceptable pair of shorts, and by the time he'd pulled them on and fastened the belt, the doorbell rang and Damon was rushing to answer it, pasta abandoned. Cyr, barefoot and shirtless but at least wearing pants, headed over to greet his friends.

It certainly had been a long time since he'd seen the others; he was pretty sure that he and Damon hadn't even known their feelings for each other the last time they'd gotten together. But they were all there. Greg, his shaggy brown hair hanging in his face as always, Stefan, who for once was wearing a shirt, even Jack and Sean were standing at the door. Cyr stood next to Damon, who put an arm over Cyr's shoulder, oblivious to the heavy blush growing on Cyr's face. The others looked a little confused as well, but Damon didn't seem to notice, as he greeted them all, grinning, and led them to the kitchen. Cyr followed them, still trying to shake off his tiredness.

Damon, stirring the spaghetti, called out. "Mind getting plates, honey-bun?"

Cyr's blush deepened when he realized that Damon was addressing him. Didn't the guy have _any _sense? But he dutifully obliged, pulling six plates out of the cabinet and setting them down next to the stove. Damon kissed him quickly on the cheek, and Cyr stared at the ground as if by looking at it hard enough, he would sink into it. Luckily, the others didn't say anything, but gathered around Damon and peered into the steaming pot.

"Spaghetti again?" Stefan asked, and Greg rolled his eyes.

"Dude, that's what you made last time!" Jack said. Damon laughed.

"Yeah, but that was six months ago. And that's the only thing I know how to cook."

Sean sighed. "Allright. Spaghetti again."

At that moment, a white egg timer rang, and Damon quickly switched off the stove and grabbed a large spoon. He waved the others to go sit at the table, and pulled the plates towards him.

"Hun, will you help me with this?"

Cyr, cursing under his breath, shuffled over to his boyfriend and handed him plates, one at a time, to be filled with spaghetti.

When had all received their food, Damon and Cyr sat down at the two empty seats at the table, which, of course, were next to each other on the end. They ate in silence, the only sound being slurping and chewing as the six boys devoured their meal. The whole time, Cyr tried to avoid Damon's gaze, focusing only on his steadily emptying plate. Normally he loved Damon's company, but with all his friends around, he wasn't sure if he was ready to admit to them his feelings for Damon. If worst came to worst, he'd admit he _liked_ him, but never in that w-

His thoughts were cut off by the feeling of lips on his. His eyes widened when he realized what was happening. If only his and Damon's plates weren't so close together...and the noodles so long...he saw the others' eyes round with shock and he quickly pulled his mouth away from Damon's, taking the end of the noodle with him. His face grew hot, his cheeks flushing. This was something straight out of a Disney movie; he didn't even know it was physically possible, let alone happening to him. He stared at his almost-empty plate, trying to avoid the burning stares of his friends, but Damon didn't seem at all affected, laughing like it was meant to happen. Cyr wanted to be anywhere _but _here; in this apartment, at this table, his five best friends all wide-eyed, open-mouthed, shocked. Cyr laughed nervously, his face a dark magenta.

"Uh..heh-"

Greg's jaw dropped. "Dude, are you two like-"

Cyr hastily interrupted him. "No, it was just an accident. We are not g-"

He couldn't finish, though, because Damon quickly butted in, beaming. "Yeah, we are. Guys, I want you to meet my new boyfriend, Vincent Cyr."

Cyr's glare was murderous, but the grin never left Damon's face. The others were in various states of shock. "That's just-" Jack stammered.

Greg was wide-eyed. "Whoa, man, I never would've thought-"

"_Cyr_-iously?" Stefan laughed at his little pun.

Sean smiled. "You know, you guys are actually perfect for each other."

Damon beamed at him, earrings glinting. Cyr's face lost a little of its blush, but maybe it was just tired of having the redness constantly plastered on his cheeks.

"Yeah, you are." the others chorused. A little bit of happiness returned to Cyr and, making the most of the moment, he kissed Damon on the lips. He heard cheering and clapping from his friends, but it sounded faint and distant, as if they were merely specks on the horizon. He closed his eyes as he held the kiss, feeling Damon's gentle fingers in his messy dark hair until slowly, they broke apart. Cyr could feel the others gazing at them, but this time he didn't care. The kiss had brought his mind to a place it would never return from.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Cyr couldn't remember what happened after dinner, just a dim impression of laughter and grinning faces, soft hands and gentle kisses. His mind had fluttered out of his body, and it had no intention of coming back. All he knew was after what felt like hours, his eyelids began to droop and his head felt far too heavy to be supported by his neck, and his legs began to feel like melting butter. He yawned loudly, trying to get the others' attention, but they were caught up in conversation. Someone must've told a joke, because they all threw their heads back in raucous laughter, not noticing Cyr's head digging into Damon's shoulder, his eyes half-closed. The exhaustion was forming heat waves that radiated off his skin, and he was surprised that Damon's side wasn't burned by now. His nose, which had been slightly clogged all day, felt like it was tightening, compressing on itself, and Cyr gave a loud sniffle.

After what felt like hours of laying there, the heat radiating off his body pulling him out of sleep, Damon finally noticed Cyr's head burrowed in his lap. He chuckled.

"Dude, Cyr!" Cyr blearily opened one eye, sniffling. "You slept all day! You're tired _again_?"

Cyr nodded, hardly registering what Damon was saying. "It's only 9:00!" Jack laughed, and Cyr buried his face in Damon's shirt, trying to avoid the stares. He wanted more than anything to be out of this room, away from all the eyes trained on him, the laughter, the noise. He wanted to just be alone, with Damon, somewhere more comfortable than here. And-

"I want Fluffy.." With a jolt, he realized that the small whimper came from him. He burrowed his head deep in the folds of Damon's jacket, hiding the blush deepening on his cheeks. Did he really just say that? He sneezed violently, making Damon jump.

"Fluffy?" Stefan, laughing, turned a critical eye towards the boy, whose dark hair was now being lightly stroked by the back of Damon's hand. Cyr gave a small whimper, and Damon jumped to the rescue.

"Yeah, Fluffy. He's our-our cat. Yeah, we have a cat now. We..uh..we didn't tell you that, did we?"

Now it was Damon's turn to blush, as the others stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Aren't you allergic?" Sean said, sneering slightly. Damon slumped his shoulders, occupying himself with trying to pull Cyr's head out of his jacket. Aware of his friends' critical stares, he coughed loudly.

"Did I say cat? I meant our...um...our alligator!"

More staring.

"Alligator? What? You must have misheard me. I _definitely _said platypus."

Blink.

"I lied. Kangaroo."

Eyes narrowed.

"Fine, rabbit."

"Cupcake."

"Tiger."

"Hyena."

"Shark."

"Oh, allright. It's Cyr's stuffed panda."

Cyr didn't have the energy to be angry at his boyfriend, but sniffled and rested his head in Damon's lap once more. The others started giggling, but stopped at the murderous glare that Damon gave them. Damon sighed, stroking Cyr's hair once more. Cyr sneezed, and it was then that he noticed the heat radiating off of Cyr's body.

"Cyr, you're burning up! Hey, why don't you go to bed?"

"Noo..." Cyr whimpered, clinging to Damon's leg as he tried to stand. Damon sighed and sat down again. The boys sat in relative silence, unsure of what to say, until finally, Cyr lifted his head slightly. "Fluffy?" he asked, his voice small and slightly hoarse.

Damon sighed, gently stroking his hair. "Just go back to sleep," he said softly. Cyr narrowed his eyes.

"No! I want Fluffy!"

Damon shook his head. Cyr pouted, his brown eyes growing large and slightly watery.

"Please?"

Damon sighed. He had to admit, Cyr looked extremely comical, and rather cute, like this, and it wasn't even because he was still shirtless. His nose was red and inflamed, his black hair sticking out in all directions, and his cheeks were slightly flushed.

"Fine," Damon said, resigned. "I'll get you Fluffy. But only because you're adorable when you're sick." He stood up, and Cyr rolled off the couch, clinging to his leg. Damon carefully shook him off and walked briskly into the other room, returning moments later with a large stuffed panda.

"Here. Take Fluffy." Cyr smiled, sniffling, and pounced back onto the couch, hugging the panda close to his chest. Damon sat back down, and Cyr put his head back in Damon's lap, smiling as he buried his face in Fluffy's soft fur. Damon smiled at his sick boyfriend as he sneezed softly and drifted into sleep.

Half an hour later, when his friends had left, Damon finally stirred from his position on the couch. Careful not to wake Cyr, he slid off the seat and grabbed onto him, trying in vain to lift the taller boy. When that didn't work, he consented to drag him across the floor and into the bedroom. Cyr coughed quietly but didn't wake up; Damon knew from experience that his boyfriend was an extremely heavy sleeper. Depositing him rather unceremoniously on the king bed they shared, Damon dashed back into the other room and brought Fluffy. He placed it down next to Cyr and tucked the covers up to his chin, then stood back and looked at him. He was snoring quietly, curled up on his side, and he shifted, still asleep, wrapping his arm around Fluffy and drawing it close to his face. Damon smiled, flicked off the light, and tiptoed out.

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**A/N: ..yeah. I can't promise that later drabbles will come out as quickly as this one, I just had a rare burst of motivation. Tell me what you think! :D**


	3. Reassurance and Resentment

**A/N: Here comes another! As always, no connection to the previous drabbles.**

**Disclaimer: Do I really?**

**Warnings: Not really anything. A teensy bit of fluff, lotsa angst, and some hurt/comfort. It starts to get dark, but then not so much, and well you'll see. P.S. Greg is extremely OOC in this. Just thought I'd let you know. It's necessary for the story.**

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Damon groaned as he stared into the mirror, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He ran his hand over his jaw, feeling a patch of rough, acne ridden skin that he was sure was smooth yesterday. He must've had a breakout overnight. Splashing his face with water, he plodded into the kitchen, where Greg already sat, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands. Yawning, Damon sank down into his seat, where a piece of toast on a plate already sat.

"Thanks," he muttered, biting into the toast and chewing loudly. Greg did not reply, but took another swig of his coffee. They ate in silence, Damon staring out the window. It looked like they were in for another gloomy day; Damon could hear the rain pounding on the streets, the roof, the glass of the window. He sighed and finished his toast, bringing his empty plate up to the sink.

"How are _you_ doing this fine morning?" he asked jokingly, but Greg did not answer. When Damon sat back down with a glass of orange juice and a crumpled newspaper, Greg narrowed his eyes. Damon looked at him quizzically.

"You have something on your face," Greg stated simply, pointing to the acne covering his cheeks and jaw. Damon looked into his orange juice to hide the blush growing on his cheeks.

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning confusion. Greg gave a dry laugh.

"Don't play stupid with me. You must've looked in the mirror this morning."

Damon shuddered at the cold tone in Greg's voice. It was harsh, grating, cruel, and not at all like the Greg he knew. Damon shook his head slowly.

"You didn't? No wonder. 'Cause if you did, you would've gone straight back to bed."

Damon bit his lip, trying to force down the hot tears that were springing in his eyes. "Why?" he asked, keeping his tone even.

"Anyone can see what a gay-ass ugly _fag_ you are."

The words stung Damon, bringing heat to his cheeks. Yes, Greg teased him often about one thing or another; his relationship with Cyr, his not-so-perfect skin, but this time, it didn't sound so much like teasing. This time, Greg was dead serious.

Damon just stared at his friend, looking for the smile in his blue eyes, the spark that said he was only joking. But it wasn't there. Damon felt his face flush, hot tears bubble in the corner of his eyes, but he swallowed hard and turned away. Greg laughed, the sound devoid of all mirth.

"Yeah, that's right, hide your face. No one deserves to see it anyway, you little shit!"

Damon gritted his teeth, pleading for the tears to just fade away, praying they wouldn't fall.

"Fuck you." he growled, trying to mask the tremor in his voice.

"Or you can fuck _me_, fag," Greg laughed. "I know you prefer dicks anyway."

Damon's face burned, and he shuddered with rage. "I know, and that's why we're still friends, asshole," he practically spat at the other boy.

He gave a barely audible whimper as Greg's face darkened with rage, and without warning, Greg lunged at him, his foot colliding full-force with Damon's groin area. Damon shrieked as excruciating pain rippled through his body, and it took all his willpower to remain on his feet. "You retard!" he screeched, his voice high and desperate, and, clutching the sore area, he sprinted out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Once outside, he was hit full-force by the freezing rain, the chill air, the noise of cars on the nearby highway. He froze for a second, unable to think, unable to remember what he had set out to do. Shuddering, he sank to his knees. The pain from Greg's kick was fading, but the mental pain from his words had not. Greg's insults echoed in his head.

_Gay..._

_Ugly..._

_Fag..._

_Retard..._

_No one deserves to see you anyway, you little shit!_

_Anyone can see what a gay-ass ugly fag you are!_

_I know you prefer dicks anyway..._

Damon shuddered as the tears began to fall, and he hugged his knees, his wet hair dripping into his lap. He let himself sit there for a few minutes, sodden with his misery and the harsh rain, but finally he rose shakily to his feet. With sudden clarity, he knew what he had to do. He took off running, ignoring the biting cold from his bare feet, his lower legs, his arms where the short sleeves didn't cover. The rain splashed around him, but he narrowed his eyes, determined. Running, he kept pace with the echoing words in his head. He turned out of the neighborhood and towards the main street. At the corner, he skidded to a stop, overwhelmed by the sheer noise, the speeding cars, the honking and the shrieking. He was about to turn around and go back when he heard a small voice in his head. It sounded like Greg's, or Cyr's, or his own, or a mixture of the three. _No one wants you alive anyway._

That hardened his resolve, and, choking out a sob, before he could stop himself, he raced into the street. Everything seemed to fade away: the cars, whose horns were now ringing out through the gloomy day, the pedestrians, eyes widened in shock, even the chilling rain seemed to blur out of his vision. He ran, oblivious to the cars screeching to a stop just inches from him. He looked up briefly at one car, and his blood froze cold. There was Cyr, brown eyes wide and shocked as he gripped the wheel, his foot slamming on the brakes. Cyr was the _last_ person Damon wanted to see right now. So he did the only thing he could think of. He ran towards him.

Cyr tried to stop the car, but it was too late. The red Lamborghini-since when had Cyr driven one of those?-collided with him full force. He crumpled to the ground as pain, far more excruciating than if Greg had kicked him one hundred times instead of once, exploded through his body. He couldn't move, his joints had gone numb, but the pain was their, pounding through his head, his veins, his whole body. He weakly registered the slamming of a car door, and blearily looked up to see Cyr's kind face peering at him. He coughed loudly, spraying drops of blood in all directions and Cyr looked down at him. Damon tried to decipher the expression on his boyfriend's face, but was unable. Only one thought coursed through his mind: _this is how I'm going to die._

With a sudden rush of fear, he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. Cyr, surprisingly strong, forced him back down. "Cyr-don't-you-you c-care-you wouldn't-" he managed to choke out a few disjointed words, but Cyr didn't seem to hear.

"Greg's right," Cyr said simply, his voice devoid of emotion. "You don't deserve me. You don't deserve anyone."

"C-Cyr!" Damon cried out, his blue eyes wild. "Don't! P-please!"

But Cyr was reaching for something behind him, pulling out a glinting axe, like one that a lumberjack would use. Damon's last thought was _where the hell did he get _that_?_, but he was cut short as Cyr swung, the sharp silver blade piercing his already-broken skin, the pain began to dull, blackness swirled into his vision, beginning to consume him-

Suddenly, the pain was gone. No light was seeping through his closed eyelids, but he felt something warm gripping him. He gingerly reached for his shoulders, the source of the warmth, and found that it was coming from an object, an arm, probably. The arms were shaking him, a voice crying out. "Damon! Wake up!" _Am I dead?_ Damon thought, and slowly, he opened his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to get used to the darkness of the room, but when they did, he saw a face staring at him. Cyr's face.

"B-b-but you-you killed me-you..." he trailed off, seeing the concern in Cyr's warm chocolate eyes, the gentle smile on his perfect lips. Cyr sighed, running his fingers through Damon's messy brown hair. Damon looked up at him, puzzled. "W-what happened?" he choked out, a tear beading up in his eye. Cyr stroked his hair gently, his voice calm and soothing. "Damon..it was just a dream...only a dream..."

Damon sighed gently as another tear welled up in his eyes, and his lip trembled slightly. Cyr seemed to understand, and wrapped his other arm around Damon, drawing him close. Damon allowed the tears to trickle down his cheeks as he buried his head in Cyr's chest. They lay like that for a few minutes, Cyr stroking Damon's hair as the wetness from Damon's tears soaked through Cyr's shirt. Finally, Damon spoke.

"It-it was so real though. The dream. You-Greg-you all hated me. Told me I was ugly, retarded, a faggot, that I didn't deserve to live. And then you had an axe, and you hit me with your Lamborghini, and-"

Cyr sighed, lifting Damon's chin so they were staring eye-to-eye. "Listen to me, Damon. You know that's not true. I don't hate you, Greg doesn't hate you, neither does Stefan or Jack or Sean or anyone in the world. You'll always be worthy to us. And _no one_ would _ever_ want you dead."

Damon nodded slowly, resting his head on Cyr's chest while the tears poured down his face. Cyr sighed and lay back against the pillows, running his fingers through Damon's hair. They lay like that for what felt like hours, until Damon's breathing evened out, he stopped shaking with sobs, and slowly he drifted into sleep.

* * *

**A/N: As always, I LOOOVE feedback! Good or bad, I don't care! Flame all you want!**


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